The Malevolent Mirkwood
by Elmyth
Summary: An original rendition of the companies journey through Mirkwood and the usual violence, anger, love, lust and all-round lack of table manners that comes with traveling with Dwarves. Contains all the lovable dwarves and an OC.
1. Chapter 1

The Malevolent Mirkwood

_This story is based from the events of the first movie, rather than the book, creating a new path through the travels of the company through Mirkwood, as opposed to what happens in the novel. _

_Chapter one ~ Mirkwood's warm welcome  
_

Below the tightly woven branches of twisted, sickly trees, where sunlight should have entered happily, yet burned through the small gaps almost painfully; Under the immense foliage where birds should have nested and insects should have flourished, but none were to be found; And between ancient oaks that whispered with knowledge, sat thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard.

Thorin Oakenshield's company of fifteen had passed mountains, an army of goblins and packs of wargs, yet the enchanted forest of Mirkwood disabled them the most. They were _lost_. Having had travelled in the forest for weeks which felt like months, the group were weary and disheartened. The air trapped under the canopy of trees was thick with moisture and the two brothers, Bofur and Bombur, fanned each other half-heartedly with small leaves with little effect, while their cousin Bifur placed his atop his head, to ease what was left of the quickly passing small fire, made only for cooking, at the centre of the small clearing had been all but stomped into the ground in desperation by the feet of Fili and Kili, whose tunics clung to them in a suffocating manner. The hobbit, Bilbo, draped a wet rag across his forehead, less concerned about approaching danger than the exhausting heat. They hadn't run into any trouble since the encounter with the pale orc and the prospect of running into any in such a quiet, desolate forest seemed preposterous, lulling most into a false sense of security. The rest of the dwarves, save one, fidgeted in their places around the clearing, trying to get comfortable. At the edge of the clearing, staring out into the dark woods, stood ever-alert Thorin and Gandalf.

'It is becoming clear that we may need a guide to lead us back onto the path of our journey,' Gandalf sighed wearily. He did not imagine assistance from any being outside Thorin's immediate kin would be accepted by Thorin himself, having only just recognised Bilbo as a member of the group and ally.

'I hope you do not mean to suggest the wood elves, Gandalf,' Thorin spat the words angrily. Thranduil led the elves in these parts and the still sore wound of their abandonment in the days of Smaug's reign was only salted when the elven path the dwarves had taken, led them to be lost in days.

'Of course not,' Gandalf reassured gently. Though it would have made the next few days easier on all of them, the wizard knew that it had been a stretch to lead Thorin to trust Elrond and the elves at Rivendell; much harder to convince him as much of the ones he considered the enemy. 'We shall discuss possible solutions when daylight returns. For now I seek the company only solitude can bring.' Thorin watched the wizard disappear into the darkness, before seeing the dim light on the tip of his staff glow slightly and become enveloped with black like everything else.

As night fell completely, the group of misfits fell into sleep. Gandalf had still not returned. As appointed by their leader, Bofur drew first watch, as he usually did. Settled on a fallen tree at the edge of their camp, he picked aimlessly at a piece of wood the size of his forearm with his knife, taking little responsibility in his position of sentry. His legs lay on either side of the wood, the long trails of his knitted scarf hanging down. As he flicked bark away carefully, he looked over to where his brother slept, smiling thoughtfully. Back when he was a young dwarf, and Bombur even younger, Bofur had taken pleasure carving and creating objects for his brother; wooden orcs for him to defeat, the handle of his cleaver when he discovered cooking and even the buckle for the belt of his ever growing waist line. Though he would not consider them works of art, they always brought a smile to Bombur's face and he took pride in always being able to bring happiness and laughter with something so simple, a trait he had received from his cousin, Bifur. Bofur's gaze lowered to where Bifur lay curled against the mass that was his cousin's giant belly and his small faltered slightly. Back where they had lived, Bifur had been known to be cheerful, light-hearted and modestly intelligent for a dwarf. He rarely argued and encouraged others with a gentle and humorous attitude that put many dwarves at ease in rough times. Bofur recalled fondly Bifur's deep and hearty laugh, and the way his eyes would look completely closed when he smiled. This was of course, before the irremovable piece of iron lodged in his skull made him withdrawn. He was not quite the same dwarf as he had been, quieter and harder to bring to laugh. Though he was still loyal and caring, protective over the two brothers he had practically raised, Bifur had times where they could not differentiate between a stoic expression and a vacant one. At times, when he communicated through hand gestures and meaningful glances, Bofur could see the old Bifur and imagined that it were merely speech which now evaded him, rather than intellect. At other times, he needed to be lead and his expression remained blank and distant. However, he was still a fierce fighter and had accompanied the brothers to The Shire without a second thought when they had been called; he would protect them the best he could and in turn, they would protect him. They were a family.

A rustle in the still trees brought Bofur's attention back to the present and he squinted into the darkness, as though a smaller space to see through would make the black more clear. There was no noise after that and no sign of movement, so after another hard look into nothing, he decided it was probably an animal of some sort. Even so, he placed down his whittling knife in front of him, reaching for his mattock. Behind him, a twig snapped and he turned, sliding off the log, mattock at the ready. Nothing again. Deciding whether or not to wake the others, Bofur settled back down and felt for his knife preparing to resume his carving, only to find it not where he had left it. He checked again, with sight this time; further along, beside and even the long grass around the fallen tree. Gone. He scratched the unkempt hair through his hat, reaching back for his mattock. This time, he swung around almost frantically with a look of sheer bewilderment. Surely he had placed it right there. Bofur chuckled quietly; he could be quite a fool sometimes, as Bifur was fond of reminding him. As he stared at the spot where his mattock should be, bent over in concentration, a streak of flesh leapt over him, raced across the clearing and made off with the pot that held the remains of their dinner and _his_ mattock slung over it's shoulder. The others stirred and Bofur fumbled for his hat which had been knocked off in the kerfuffle. Straightening, hat firmly in place, he was just in time to see the culprits boots leave the edge of the clearing.

'THIEF!'


	2. Chapter 2

With a scurry and some panic, the rest of the dwarves were awake and standing, weapons at the ready. Bofur was already heading for the bushes through which the thief had disappeared, Bifur at his side. As they hurried after his stolen mattock, Thorin and the brothers appeared at their side.

'What is it?' Thorin asked gruffly. Dwarves weren't known for their long distance running and the thing that they chased was fast, but they were right on its heels.

'Didn't see,' Bofur puffed, his accent thick. 'But it's quick, smart and it's got my mattock.'

Before them, as if in response to his words, the mattock swung back and embedded itself in a tree nearby. Bofur stopped to pull it out of the tree, tugging without it giving way and as a result was left behind. Thorin drew his sword, Kili and Fili drawing their weapons also, following the lead of their king. They were closer to the culprit now, could see the outline of their body as they sprinted between the twisted trees. Looking back and seeing five of the thirteen dwarves and a hobbit on their heels, the stranger jumped and scurried up the closest tree with relative ease. The entire group stopped suddenly, huddled around the base of the tree.

'Kili.' Thorin nodded towards the top of the tree. Without a word, Kili did as he was told, raising his bow, letting an arrow loose. It sounded as if it had made its mark, a solid thud and a gruff noise from above, but nothing fell and all was silent.

'Up you go then,' Fili shoved Bilbo towards the tree.

'What?' Bilbo struggled against his grip, not wanted to discover what was at the top of those branches, but the dwarves had already given his a boost and he found himself clambering slowly up the tree. Behind him, waiting for a moment to give Bilbo a head start, Nori was climbing up after him while the others waited below.

Bilbo, being a hobbit, climbed tree with difficulty and ease simultaneously. The leathery skin on the bottom of his feet made it remarkably easy to find foot-holes which a softer soled, say human, would find too uncomfortable to use. On the other hand, he was a hobbit and that meant he was most comfortable on the ground, or in an armchair in front of a fire for that matter... Not chasing criminals up trees in an enchanted forest. Above him was a mass of light material, still and flat to the tree. A shirt? An empty shirt. It took Bilbo a moment as he climbed to reach the shirt, but he made the connection. The arrow hadn't hit its mark, merely pinning them to the tree with the material, which they had discarded. Behind him, Bilbo heard the creak of a branch under weight and let out a yell as two small feet came into contact with his back, knocking him from the tree. He fell for what felt like a long time and despite the yell he had first let out, no sound escaped his lips until he was yanked to a halt and swung onto a nearby branch by a familiar hand. Nori gave a wink as he scrambled up the tree, making quicker time than Bilbo had. Nori was adaptable. Quick on his feet and able to adjust to any situation, though he wasn't used to being the one doing the chasing. Nori had what his brother called 'light fingers', which he didn't approve of, even if it got them through some rough times, especially when Ori was young.

Beside him, he saw movement and their very own cooking pot flew past his head. Moving quickly he took after them as they retreated, moving to another tree. On his back was strapped his weapon, a long club, nearly the length of his own body and he brought it forward in a strong, long swing. Feet knocked from under it, their adversary fell from the tree, unconscious and still.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a lot of commotion when they returned to the camp. Now that they were all gathered, together they could get a good look at their robber. There weren't many creatures that made these strange woods home and what they expected to see what some monster, twisted and detached from living solitary in a dangerous place. Nori stood away, having seen what he had knocked from the tree, he didn't feel the need to look any closer. Bofur and Ori stood the closest, much to Dori's dismay, bending down to inspect. Bofur had returned to his light hearted nature now that he had regained his mattock, he observed out of curiosity not angry at the loss of his possessions.

Not a monster or creature of sorts, what sat slumped in front of them, still unconscious, was what appeared to be a girl. Having removed her outer shirt, pinned to the tree, she wore a simple cloth sleeveless top that cut off at the waist, kept together with wooden toggles and light pants; clothes fit for a life in a humid forest. Her shoes were leather boots, her long dark hair pulled back into a braid which reached to her lower back, though now it was dishevelled and spilled out over her face. Slim, but muscular, they hadn't bothered tying her up; she was unarmed and young, they had no doubt she couldn't escape them.

Thorin, impatient as ever, lifted her face in an attempt to wake her. 'Tell me who you are.'

She squinted, clearly conscious but refusing to look at him. Thorin let go of her face and stepped back, 'Answer me, who are you?'

Slowly she raised her head and got to her feet, steadying herself against the tree behind her. Ori still stood close, slingshot at the ready, trying to look menacing. Taking advantage of their lax arrangement, she grabbed Ori by the wrist, twisting him into an awkward position that allowed her to manoeuvre him in front of her. From the cuffs on her wrists she drew a thin piece of wood, it's tip black and sharp.

'One move and the poison on the tip of this will kill him. A scratch is enough.' She pressed the splinter to his cheek. Each of the dwarves had drawn their weapons, even Bilbo wielded his Elvish blade somewhat awkwardly.

'Who are you? Who sent you!' Thorin demanded and without moving an inch he seemed to grow larger in anger.

'I owe allegiance to no one, least of all you. I don't need to explain myself to you.' She drew Ori closer, her eyes darting back and forth, searching for a weak point in their formation... A way out. In an act of impulse Kili aimed his bow at her more steadily, a slight movement but it was enough to trigger the girl's defences. It had barely seemed like she had moved at all, but a small prick appeared on the side of Ori's cheek and he dropped to the ground instantly. Dori and Nori both let out a yell and rushed to their brothers aid. The girl had already begun to make her escape, heading for the least twisted tree, in the assumption that most of them couldn't climb, but although she was quick on her feet the others were quick to react. Behind her Dwalin reached out for the nearest thing and wrapped her long hair in the hand, yanking her off the tree she had barely managed to make it up. With a thud she fell back to the ground. She was fast, but she couldn't fight, surrendering silently to the company.

'He's still alive!'

Tied to a tree the girl couldn't move, surrounded by angry dwarves, their weapons drawn and at her throat.

'Is there an antidote? Save him.' Gloin stood over her and she could see the protectiveness in each one of their eyes.

'No.' She said calmly. The weapons drew closer to her neck and she raised her head to avoid them. 'But if you leave him alone he'll be awake in an hour.' Dori, who fussed over Ori willing him to wake up, shot his head up in attention. 'It's not poison, it's a sedative.' The blades pressed at her neck made her very aware of her own pulse, making her swallow tentatively.

'You stay alive til then. If anything happens to him, we will not be so merciful. Bofur, watch her.' Thorin led the others to the other side of the camp, where they could watch over their youngest and remain out of hearing distance.

'What is she?' Bilbo questioned.

'She looks like a little human. A halfling?' Fili suggested and Kili nodded in agreement.

'She wears shoes.' Bilbo had known of a hobbit to live outside of the Shire. She certainly looked like one, slight and quiet on her feet but there was a certain presence about her, despite her size. A hobbit would never wear shoes, regardless of where they were from. Their feet were adapted to bear any terrain and shoes were constricting and uncomfortable.

'It doesn't matter what she is, she attacked us!' Dori had rested Ori's head on a rucksack in the shade.

'In self defence.' Dwalin had barely spoken and now he only added what none of them wanted to say. 'She was desperate.' True, she had robbed them, but in a place like this, if they had come across anyone they would have expected it.

'Where's Gandalf? Surely he knows what she is.'

Thorin watched the girl intently, but she did not try to escape again. Bofur watched her closely, staring and the girl stared right back with downturned eyebrows. He seemed to be taking his watch very seriously for once and it was almost as if she mocked him subtly.

'We will wait for him to return. If he does not convince me of her innocence, her fate will be in my hands.'


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter four_

The sun was shining through the trees and the air becoming warmer by the time Gandalf returned. Only a handful of the company were still awake, those not sleeping surrounding their prisoner once again while Thorin questioned her. She remained silent, but the look on her face gave away her annoyance.

'Gandalf!' Gloin's alert caused the rest of them to turn around. Gandalf appeared merely bemused, not at all alarmed at the addition of the girl. 'This girl, she stole from us, attacked us.. She won't speak. What do we do with her?'

While the dwarves gathered around the wizard, the girl used the rough bark of the tree to cut through her ropes bonds. Hands released she rubbed her wrists and stood.

'I am still here, no need to speak about me as though I'm not.'

The group whipped around, raising their weapons once again. The girl rolled her eyes and raised her hands. Gandalf's quiet chuckle unnerved the group, more so when he stated, 'Thorin, I do believe we have found ourselves a guide.' Thorin opened his mouth to object, but the girl beat him to it.

'Now hold on. Guide to where?' Thorin's reply was simple and vague, _out_, while Gandalf explained their journey was to Erebor, the Lonely Mountain.

The girl frowned, 'You're not the first to come through here, lost, demanding a path to Erebor. As I said, I owe allegiance to no one, but as far as I'm concerned there is only one that should find their way there. Why would I guide you?'

Thorin had grown tired of not knowing anything about this stranger and drew himself up in front of her. 'I am first in the line of Durin, son of Thrain. We do not need your help, but if you stand in our way, you will be struck down.' For a dwarf, Thorin was quite tall and seemed to tower over the girl, who held his steady gaze.

Gandalf interjected, 'I think you will find she has no desire to get in your way Thorin. In fact, I do believe she knows your name quite well.'

'You can lead us on a safe path through the woods?' Dwalin stepped forward, his axes dropped to his side.

The girl smiled faintly, 'There is no such thing as a safe path through Mirkwood. But I will lead you out alive, for the King under the mountain needs to reclaim his throne.'

The company murmured together, in agreement that she should guide them. Ori was awake, though still drowsy, at this point. She had not intended to harm him and thus seemed to pose little threat to them.

Breaking the quiet mumbles, Bofur slapped a hand heartily on her shoulder, 'Welcome aboard!'

For once in what seemed to Bilbo like their entire journey, the band of dwarves were completely silent. Their eyes were all fixed on the same thing, waiting. In front of them, perched on the low branch of a twisted tree as if to give herself authority, the girl looked over them with a more serious expression than she had given, even when they had held her captive. Bilbo hadn't seen a friendly face, outside of the company, since Rivendell. He hoped that she was indeed an ally and not an enemy. He shuddered. This place felt wrong and he was scared. He was almost always scared. Beside him stood Bofur, a comfort in a place like this, he was grateful to the kindness he had shown him when others had doubted him. The girl seemed to look through him, as if sensing his distraction before speaking.

'If you want to make it through this forsaken place with the least amount of trouble possible, I have only two things to ask of you. Firstly,' she looked at each one of them for a moment before speaking again, 'do exactly what I say. If I ask you to do something, to walk in a certain place, to stop, to run... You listen to me. And secondly...' She took a deep breath, as though what she would say next would greatly impact them all, but her voice altered as if she were speaking with children and an almost chuckle escaped her lips. 'Don't _touch_ anything.'

They looked around at each other in surprise, Thorin appearing stoic and unamused, before Gandalf clapped his hands together behind them, 'Best we move on then, we are losing the day.'


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter five_

Dusk settled in silently, keeping in rhythm with the forests nature, turning the sky above a rosy pink. The eastern part of the forest led upwards and where the company had been led the treetops thinned in places, revealing the colourful sky devoid of the blemish of clouds. Each of them walked with a partner, two by two rather than their usual single file, as their guide had instructed them and when they had questioned her she gave them only a meaningful glance and did not explain herself. The ambiguous nature of their path and the way she shrugged off their constant enquiries of her methods and knowledge of Mirkwood gave the day a tense atmosphere and they stopped constantly, almost in rebellion to her direction. Gradually, the group became less defiant and the walk easier before she stopped them abruptly.

'We'll stop here, before it gets dark.'

It was still warm but lacked the humidity that had tortured them over the past few nights and they kept a small fire going to bring them light. Most of the dwarves had opted to wear only their lightest pieces of clothing, which were the cotton tunic and pants they wore under their many layers. Bombur had made a meal, taking more than his fair share, and as Bilbo had been instructed he took the last bowl to their guide who stood alone at the edge of their camp.

'Are you hungry? It's quite good, despite the way it looks.' He handed her the bowl of a grey stew-like substance and she took it hesitantly but didn't answer, expecting him to leave. Instead he stood beside her and looked out into the darkness before shuddering again. 'I can't stand this place. How can you stand it? Do you live out here? Do you have a house?' She didn't answer. Bilbo took the moment to look over her once again and remained confused. She was about his height, looking eye level with him and had a soft face, her cheeks rosy from the warmth in the air. She had retrieved her cloth shirt before they had left that day, her slight frame disguised as bulk under the material, making her look more like a dwarf than a hobbit, as her ears certainly suggested. Bilbo's brow furrowed in bewilderment. Her back was straight and she held herself gracefully, especially for her small size. Well now she doesn't look like a hobbit or a dwarf, Bilbo thought, though he had never actually seen a female dwarf... Maybe this was what they looked like. The longer he looked at her, the more qualities he discovered that disproved the last. Eventually, his eyes trailed back to her face which stared back at him chin up, an eyebrow raised.

Bilbo cleared his throat nervously but before he could speak she quietly thanked him for the meal and handed the bowl back to him before walking away. Embarrassed at his blatant staring, it took a moment for him to realise the bowl was still full.

Returning to the fire Bilbo expected most of the camp to be asleep, but instead they sat huddled together in groups each with their own story of how the girl had found them or what she was.

'She's a witch, disguised as anything she comes across to lure them into her fortress before she eats them,' Kili suggested, making a spooky gesture that Bilbo had come to hate and he settled alongside Ori to avoid it.

'No, no, she's a tree nymph. She'll kill anything that threatens the forest,' Ori piped up, no longer phased by their earlier encounter and Bilbo instantly regretted sitting next to him. Bifur spoke a word of Khuzdul and mashed his hands together somewhat violently, making gestures that the rest of the dwarves tried to follow. Bombur chuckled but Bofur looked out around the campsite and said ominously, 'Maybe she's a ghost.'

The rest fell silent, eyes also searching for her and Bilbo cringed inwardly at the thought that the reason she hadn't eaten was because she couldn't. Bofur laughed suddenly, lightening the mood and the rest followed suit.

Together, away from their light hearted group, sat the three true warriors of the company, Thorin, Gloin and Dwalin. Although they had not joined in with the others speculations they were just as curious. Gandalf had sat between the two groups, a spectator to their outrageous accusations, amused and somewhat saddened by the truth.

'Gandalf,' It was Thorin who spoke, his deep rumbling voice drawing the attention of the rest. 'I think it is about time you tell us who you have lured into our company.' He had suspected the wizard had led her to them somehow, mysteriously disappearing before she had arrived, always influencing their journey without ever admitting to it. The last time he had done such a thing they had ended up in Rivendell and although it had favoured them in the end, it had left Thorin with a feeling a weakness, as though he had let down his own kind by asking the help of the elves. He did not wish to be put into that situation again.

Gandalf made a noise of reluctant agreement, his eyes trailing off to the treetops, guiding the sight of the others. On a high branch, just far enough away that the light from the fire could not reach her to illuminate her completely, the girl sat alone.

As she sat, silhouetted by the moonlight, Gandalf began his story. 'Her name is Revion.'


End file.
